Memories
by Firin Quik
Summary: "And this time," he spat, losing his cool for the first time, "bloody well stay dead!"


"It's over Potter!" he sneered, practically spitting the words from his lips. His demented red eyes glinted murderously in the dark of the Forbidden Forest and his snake-like tongue forked out from his pale lips, tasting victory. His dark robes billowed around him as he lifted his thin arms above his head, wand tip glowing with a sickly green light. "Give it up!" he snarled.

On the floor Harry Potter's body convulsed violently. His untameable dark hair stuck out at angles, rank and coated with blood. The stench of death hung around him and his arm was twisted at an odd angle. His red cloak was torn and bloodied, it's natural colour undistinguishable from it's owners blood. Through the holes in his green shirt burnt spots could be seen, where the skin was charred and burnt. His yellow scarf was in tatters, teeth marks from various Dark creatures evident on it's fabric. His blue shoes were barely held together by their threading and when you looked at the boys face you saw years of hardship staring back at you. He was a wreck.

"Stand! Face your death like a man Potter- where's your legendary Gryffindor courage now?" the Dark Lord cackled. The fool boy was shivering with fear. "The Golden Boy of the Light! Ha. Some challenge you were." He kicked Potter's corpse-like body, expecting it to roll away from him, terrified. Instead, Harry rolled to his feet and sprang forward, landing two quick punches on his tormentor and knocking him to the ground.

He bounced back on his feet and surveyed his surroundings. His glasses had been knocked off during the fight but he could see well enough. Voldemort was climbing slowly to his feet, in obvious pain. "What?" the Dark Wizard demanded. "You were exhausted- knocked out!" Harry grinned at him and though his teeth were red with blood, it was a smile of victory.

"What?" he taunted, "The great Voldemort, heir of Slytherin, has never heard of cunning? But maybe your just Tom Riddle- son of a _muggle._" His foe snarled at him. "I hid the extent of my power from you, waiting for a moment like this; alone."

"You have just forestalled your death Potter!" Voldemort screamed at him. "Your not as strong as you'd like us to think! The famous Boy-Who-Lived giving up the locations of his friends under torture. We've killed them all boy! They're dead!" To his immense surprise the boy's smile widened.

"You mean you killed your Death Eaters?" he shot back.

"What are you babbling about now? Your friends have been killed!" Harry shook his head.

"No. You killed polyjuiced Death Eaters who were under the Imperious curse. My friends are safe."

Voldemort took a moment to compose himself. The boy had changed. Seconds later his smirk was back.

"Dumbledore's Golden Boy using the Unforgivables? Tut, tut, tut…He would have been ever so disappointed." Again, the boy's reaction shocked the Dark Wizard.

"Better the damned die than the innocent," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm loyal to my friends."

For the first time in years the Dark Lord was ruffled.

"It is of no consequence. You shall still die- and now I will make you suffer. _Petrificus Totalus!_" he shouted. Light shot from his wand, tumbling through the air towards Harry and dissolved into his chest. For a moment his body went rigid and Voldemort laughed victoriously. Then the green eyed teenager seemed to shake himself and strode forward. Voldemort's laughter died in his throat. "How?" he demanded. His foe grinned at him.

"I did some research. If someone has enough power, they can throw off a spell- if they have the incentive. It normally only happens in times of great stress. And with everything at stake here…I remember the people I'm fighting for."

A growl built in the back of the Dark Lord's throat.

"_DIFFINDO!_" he screamed at the teenager opposing him. This time his spell had a clear effect on his opponent- a bloody gash appeared on his arm, but the oncoming wizard didn't even flinch.

"I remember Madam Pomfrey; all those days in the Infirmary- how she'd talk to me and make me feel better. This," he gestured at the deep cut on his arm, "is barely a scratch."

"_LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!" _screamed a desperate Voldemort. The spell dissipated against Harry's chest.

"I remember my Professors," he continued, not even breaking stride. "How they'd encourage me; how they'd help me when I needed it, how they'd be firm when I broke the rules and how I knew they'd make everything better."

"_STUPEFY!" _This time the red light had barely left his wand before it broke apart. Closer and closer Harry came, his speech never stopping.

"I remember my friends- Neville, Luna, the Twins; everyone." A small smile graced the Boy-Who-Lived's face. "Neville- strong and silent. Luna- there when I needed it. The Twins- I could have lived through this without them. You think you can stop that?"

"_CRUCIO!" _screamed Voldemort, panic clear in his voice. The curse hit Harry, but still he pushed on.

"Ron and Hermione. The best friends I could ever hope for. They'd stick by me through _anything_, and that thought alone gives me strength." The Dark Lord was panting, with adrenaline coursing through his veins, but Harry far younger and woefully inexperienced hadn't broken a sweat.

"_IMPERIO!" _Voldemort bellowed, pushing everything he had out through his wand. Magic burst from his wand in a stream of power but Harry didn't even pause. A sneer made it's way onto his face.

"Imperio? I remember Ginny Weasley. I remember how she'd hold me. I remember how she'd let me cry on her shoulder. I remember how her lips felt on mine. You think some damn voice in my head can compare to how sweet that felt?"

"You want Gryffindor bravery. Pick one of them. Pick ANY of them. That's bravery. And you can't hold a candle to it."

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!" _shouted Voldemort in desperation, a sickly green curse spouting from his wand. It hit Harry in the chest and he sagged. He was a dead man, he knew. But he could hold on a few seconds longer. The air around his hand shimmered with pure magic and, as it had done all those years ago, the sword of Godric Gryffindor came to the aid of the Righteous.

"And this time," he spat, losing his cool for the first time, "don't bloody well come back!" With a roar to the heavens, he drove his sword through Voldemort's heart. And as the Dark Lord died at his feet, Harry Potter, the greatest man to ever walk the Earth, passed from this life to the next.


End file.
